


Neither You Nor I

by winter156



Series: Devil Wears Prada Drabbles [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter156/pseuds/winter156
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neither You Nor I

It was a dalliance. Nothing more. It was understood by all parties involved. There was no talk of futures. No talk of relationships. No talk of what happened behind the closed doors of an exorbitantly expensive townhouse.

There was no need. The arrangement fulfilled a physical need. A primal, biological need that a divorced, [career](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8756993/1/Neither-You-Nor-I) driven mother and a young, aspiring journalist shared. A need satisfied in each other, with each other.

No strings, no promises, no commitments. No walks in the park, hands entwined, heads together laughing in the revelry of love. No grand, overt notions of affection. Theirs was a completely clandestine affair, for the sake of privacy. Neither Miranda nor Andrea could afford the scrutiny of the media. The former because she cared too much about her daughters, and the latter because she wrote the news and refused to be the news.

It would go on until they tired of it. Until Andrea found her perfect husband; an [architect](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8756993/1/Neither-You-Nor-I), or a lawyer, or a doctor, perhaps. Or until Miranda found the next Mr. Priestly. But, until then, the sincere intimacy shared in secret breaths stolen at opportune moments would continue until they were spent and their passion fizzled out. They would continue without regards to previous moral standards or social etiquette.

"Stay," the word, spoken in the hazy tones of someone more than half asleep, bounced off the darkened walls of the room. The simple word, not a command but a request, threatened to shatter the unofficially established boundaries they had set without words.

Brown eyes sought blue in the ample moonlight streaming in through the open window. Gazes locked and held, communicating silently. Slipping back under the covers, Andrea pressed her front to Miranda's. She wrapped her arm around the slim waist, entwined their legs, and buried her nose in an elegant neck.

And quite surprisingly for both the editor and the journalist, they fit. Like two puzzle pieces, they came together to create a heretofore uncompleted whole.


End file.
